


anger is an energy

by mercy_mayhem



Series: Kinky Tales [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: D/s, Dubious Consent, Implied Jughead Jones/Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones is a bratty twink, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Possessiveness, Power Play, Spanking, spanking as punishment, this is basically anti jughead jones lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercy_mayhem/pseuds/mercy_mayhem
Summary: Sweet Pea brings Jughead down a peg or two.





	anger is an energy

**Author's Note:**

> Unashamed Jugpea filth. Read the tags!

Anger is an energy, so they say, and Sweet Pea is no stranger to it. Anger might be the fuel that gets him through most days: anger towards the rich and powerful of Riverdale, who trample over his friends and family, and now anger towards that family, or at least the alleged head of it. Sweet Pea has no say in what a King orders, and when FP handed the baton to his son, a feeling of sneaky injustice set up home in his gut, irritating but alive, but now? Jughead stripping Fangs of his skin, his kin, playing God as he made Fangs Fogarty - his  _best friend_ , scrappy, soft,  _good_  - beg?  
  
Sweet Pea's anger isn't just an energy. It's pouring out of him. His Mom's trailer knows it, indents in the wall from fists and feet, pure white hot rage coursing through him like wildfire and Jughead - with his smug  _fucking_  face -   
  
He snaps back, tall frame pressed tightly against an adjacent trailer. Like clockwork, FP leaves into the night, and once the former King's back has disappeared Sweet Pea creeps forward to listen carefully for any lilting, Betty Cooper-esque voices. All he can hear is the crackling sound of a TV.  
  
A thrill rushes through him. Jughead deserves this.  
  
He opens the door slowly, as not to alarm, spying Jughead tucked into a corner of the Jones's crappy sofa. His hat is off, and it's odd to see him without it, but he doesn't mind. In his fantasies, Jughead never wears it.   
  
"What'd you forge - "  
  
Jughead is jovial, until he turns and sees his fellow serpent, tall and furious, stood in the dim light of the trailer.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he bites out, precious and spoilt as always, frowning. He pushes himself off the sofa, too, wanting to be level, which is funny, seeing as Jughead is small in comparison. Sweet Pea licks his lips slowly, snaking his way closer, enjoying how for all his blustering, Jughead's fists tighten in fear.  
  
"I'm here to tell you," Sweet Pea says, quietly, forcing the King to listen carefully, "you're going to lose the attitude."  
  
"Excuse me?" Jughead asks, incredulous, those dumb, beautiful green eyes blazing in shock, "I'm the - "  
  
" - King, yeah," Sweet Pea smirks, looking round the trailer, "after Daddy gave you it."  
  
"And?" Jughead snaps, folding his arms defensively, "that's what Kings  _do_. They pass their property onto their sons."  
  
"Except this isn't Medieval England," Sweet Pea corrects, enjoying the way they're beginning to circle each other, predator and prey, "although, it is kinda medieval, I'll give you that. The White Man taking from the Indigenous and lording it over them," he adds, standing still as he faces Jughead down.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jughead huffs, visibly prickly that his wokeness be questioned.  
  
"Are you Native American?" Sweet Pea asks, cock stirring at the way Jughead holds himself awkwardly,  _knowing_  Sweet Pea's right, that his claim to this throne is weak and stinks of entitlement, privilege.  
  
He's so goddamn beautiful, though. Sweet Pea can't deny it. That's partly why he's here. Jughead doesn't seem to catch the tension, ignorant as ever, before rolling his eyes in a tantrum.  
  
"So, what? You're here to call me a racist? I didn't  _ask_  to be King," he says snottily.  
  
"You didn't give it to someone more worthy, either," Sweet shrugs, "and no, that's not why I'm here."  
  
He's pretty glad of the TV, drowning out their conversation should any nosy Serpent pass by, Jughead eyeing him with total suspicion, but Sweet Pea's not in a rush. He has all the time in the world. Anger pushes itself up, rearing its head, as he pictures Fangs heart-broken and lost, and that's when he whips back round to grab Jughead's arm, strong but slender. Jones is indignant, furious, reaching to shove him away with a "don't you  _touch_  me," shrieking like a Victorian maid, but Sweet Pea simply catches his other wrist.  
  
"You humiliated my best friend," Sweet Pea tells him calmly. And, yeah, he doesn't often have Jughead this close, can't usually look into his eyes like this, catch sight of those pretty beauty spots, and he likes it. He likes seeing Jughead rendered useless, trapped in the grip of someone much stronger, and far more dangerous.  
  
"You humiliated him," Sweet Pea repeats, not blinking as he stares him down, "you treat us all like shit. You think you're a King? You're not. You come back here and throw your dick about after you've been running around after Andrews, huh?"  
  
Jughead's face twists, the implication there and real and he hates it, but a blush begins to form upon his cheekbones.  
  
"Archie needed help. He's my best friend," Jughead mutters, defeated as Sweet Pea holds him in place.  
  
"Oh yeah, I bet you  _helped_ ," Sweet Pea leers, "and while you were running off to Canada and letting Andrews bend you over, we were doing what we always do - surviving."  
  
"How  _dare_  - " Jughead spits, furiously trying to wrestle the bigger boy off, but failing miserably, Sweet Pea immovable as Jughead tires himself out turning and twisting.  
  
"Come on, Jug," Sweet Pea grins, "that's it, right? You'd do anything for Andrews. Abandon us for Andrews. You come back here to try and act the big man all because you were acting like a little bitch for him? Is that it?"  
  
"No!" Jughead spits, horrified, embarrassment etched on him, and with that Sweet Pea lets go, lets him stumble a little before grabbing a fistful of hair and throwing Jughead onto the sofa. He's running on mostly adrenaline, throwing himself down and yanking Jughead's shoulder to face him as Jones hits back, not quite yelling but not fucking  _quiet_ , either.  
  
"Get off me! You can't - my Dad will kil - "  
  
"Daddy? You really using the Daddy excuse?" Sweet Pea pants, shoving Jughead into the arm of the sofa and pinning him by the neck before fiddling with the front of his jeans. He can't see, and a sick part of him feels a rush when he hears Jughead's choked, fearful whimper.  
  
"I'm - no - please, I'm not - "  
  
"Shut up," Sweet Pea grunts, finally undoing the button, and moving back to the ass in his lap, "I'm just doing something FP should have done a long time ago."  
  
It's easy to force the jeans down, boxers too, to expose Jughead's bare ass to the cool air. He wishes he could see his face, see the utter look of shame and humiliation, but it's enough to have him rigid, laid across him, desperately trying to conceal his whimpers.  
  
"You," Sweet Pea grunts out, bringing his hand down hard, a loud 'smack' filling the trailer, Jughead darting forward with a muffled cry into the arm of the sofa, "you need to change your fuckin' attitude, Jones," he snarls, bringing his hand down again. It's fascinating to see, pearly white skin becoming pink and then reddened, the sting of his hand as he peppers Jughead's ass with sharp, hard smacks, worth it, as he watches that skin tan.  
  
"If FP won't," Sweet Pea continues, out of breath with each spank, "and Andrews won't," -  _smack!_  - "I certainly do not fuckin' mind."  
  
Jughead's crying now, and that Sweet Pea wants to see, this pathetic boy-king finally weak and broken, so he pulls back on the boy's hair to force his face sideways, to hear his soft little huffs of breath and broken sobs.  
  
"You speak to me or any of us with disrespect again," Sweet Pea grunts, not even hiding his straining erection, knowing Jughead will be able to feel it against his own crotch, "I'll spank you like this in front of everyone. Understand?"  
  
He whacks the pink ass hard, making Jughead cry out, tears running down his pretty face. Sweet Pea runs a hand soothingly across the bare ass on his lap. Ideally, he'd give aftercare, rub cream into Jughead's flaming ass after he's punished him, praise him for taking it so well, for accepting it, and he knows - he  _knows_ , as all doms know when they spot a sub in the wild - Jughead would react so beautifully to that, would cry prettily as Sweet Pea tendered to his sore bottom before being desperate for praise, cuddles and kisses, but Jughead isn't ready for that.  
  
Besides, Sweet Pea's ahead of himself. This was to humiliate Jones, regardless of his own fantasies about the boy.  
  
"Understand?" he repeats, slapping his ass again.  
  
"Yes," Jughead grits out, defeated, sniffling, and that's enough. Sweet Pea briefly contemplates shoving him aside, standing up and whipping his dick out, jerking it all over that pretty, plump little ass, but the fear starts to kick that FP could return at any second and Sweet Pea's just, well... violated his perfect, precious baby boy.  
  
Instead, he shoves Jughead, not before grabbing his chin and meeting those now red-rimmed eyes, defiant but different to before.  
  
"Good boy," Sweet Pea smirks, patronising, leaving Jones to sort himself out. Sure, anger is an energy, but it's also a lot of fucking power and tonight? Jughead Jones just lost it.


End file.
